


Unexpected Side Effects

by Airulophant



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Anal Sex, Bestiality, Dominance, Double Penetration, Drugs, Fantasizing, Fetish, Hand Jobs, Large Cock, Loss of Control, Masturbation, Narcissism, Original Character(s), Other, Rough Oral Sex, Seduction, Spit Kink, Submission, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Triple Penetration, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 13:03:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19724209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airulophant/pseuds/Airulophant
Summary: Nessa has never lost as a gym leader in Galar. She's always looking for ways to improve, and this time, she tries a new chemical. It's supposed to make her Pokémon excited and ready for battle. But she discovers that it has some side effects... and it makes her Pokémon a different kind of excited.





	1. Details

Nessa always polishes her Poké Balls before going home. Some of the trainers think it’s unnecessary, and some even mock her for it. _You don’t need to,_ they tell her, _and besides – you win every battle in just a move or two, so your Poké Balls aren't even dirty._ But Nessa believes in the power of details. If she lets her Poké Balls get smudged and marked, she'll let other things go too. She'll stop training as hard. Eventually, she'll lose.

And Nessa does not lose.

She is the best trainer in this part of Galar. She's rarely challenged, and when someone finds the courage to step into her gym, she makes it quick. She blows them out of the water, pun intended. And they don't come back, because they'll never forget who owns this gym.

In her hand, she holds an immaculate Poké Ball, smoother than the calm seas of Alola. She inspects her reflection. Blue eye shadow, untouched. Blue lipstick, flawless. And her hair, wrapped tightly into a bun – a blue bun, of course – totally unbothered by a day of battling. How many challengers did she defeat today? Seven? Ten?

Carefully placing the finished Poké Ball back into her locker, she grabs the next one and holds in her lap. She's been using a special polishing formula recently. James at the PokéMart said it would help the Pokémon be more ready for battle, right of out the ball. A stimulant. _That's the thing that sets me apart,_ she thinks. _I pay attention to the details._ _I'm always improving my game._ Even if it means buying sketchy polishing solution behind a PokéMart, solution whose effects she doesn’t entirely know. She didn’t get the impression that James knew, either, but he said it would make them stronger. And that’s all that she wants. Holding the ball between her legs and the rag and spray bottle in each hand, Nessa liberally soaks the rag. She sets the bottle down and begins polishing.

The tiny, nearly imperceptible blemishes on the ball begin to fade away instantly. The red seems redder, the white whiter. The lights reflect perfectly on its spotless surface, and Nessa smiles. As she rubs the ball, she pictures her next battle. She faces a small challenger, clearly inexperienced, and she relishes the opportunity to teach her a lesson. It isn't every day she sees a new face. The arena is full and the cheers are all for her, all thunderously chanting her name: _NESS-A! NESS-A!_ She throws the flawless ball, and out it her Empoleon appears – and it's angry. It's been waiting to fight for days, feeling the effects of James's stimulant. It's foaming at the mouth. “Whirlpool!” Nessa orders. Her Empoleon takes a deep, terrifying breath, and —

Nessa knocks the spray bottle over with her elbow. She must have been scrubbing too hard while lost in her thoughts. It falls on her lap, and solution seeps through the cap onto her shorts.

“Dammit, James, you gave me a defective bottle?” She frowns. She has to put the ball and the rag down first, and she can’t risk smudging the ball. (She hates starting over.) She finds a relatively clean spot on the bench and slowly lays the rag down, then rests the Poké Ball on top of it. By the time she picks up the leaking bottle, a quarter of its contents are gone; her shorts are absolutely soaked. And the smell is _foul_. Nessa sighs and stands from the bench. She tries to wipe some of the liquid from her shorts, but she only succeeds in evening it out and spreading it to her hands. Some of it has started to drip down her legs, and it has a much oilier consistency than she thought it did. She growls in frustration. “Shit!”

Nessa decides to call it quits. She can finish later, but she needs to go home and change. She places the bottle on the bench and turns to pick up the Poké Ball. When she does, she sees it rolling off the rag.

"You've got to be kidding me."

It falls to the floor, and it lands right on its button.

A large Pokémon appears. Much larger than her Empoleon. It can barely stand without hitting its head on the ceiling, and its four arms are wider than her legs —

Four arms? Nessa grins. She doesn't need a PokeDex for this one, because every trainer learns about them early on. She's even fought a few of them. They were easy, of course, but certainly not as easy as most of the others. Their sheer size is enough to fend off any small water attack, so she often has to resort to lowering its defense through other moves. Still, she's never lost to one.

It turns to face her, and it adjusts its wrestling belt. It speaks, but it might as well be roaring. "Ma... _CHAMP_." Nessa notices that its eyes look a little strange. Bigger? No, not bigger, though this is the largest Machamp Nessa has ever seen. No, they look redder than they should. Bloodshot, even.

_Oh, no. The polish._ Nessa backs up towards her locker, but the bench strikes her behind the knees, forcing her to sit. As she falls, she braces herself, and she inadvertently knocks the bottle over again, this time onto the tile floor. Some of the remaining liquid seeps out.

"Ma... champ..."

It approaches her very slowly. It starts by bending over and sniffing the bottle that now sits on the floor. It keeps sniffing, clearly intrigued by the smell. Nessa tries to reach for the Poké Balls in her locker, but it's too far behind and above her. She is paralyzed by the monstrous Machamp that now kneels in front of her, and she is afraid of scaring it by moving too quickly, anyway. So she stays put. Whoever's Machamp this is, and however it got mixed up with her Pokémon, maybe it'll just decide she's not interesting enough. It's the polish it's after...

And that's when she remembers that she currently smells very, very strongly of it. Her eyes widen with fear. "Hey, there. Woah..." She tries to calm it, but she's a trainer, not a farmer. She's been working with the same six Pokémon for several years, and she's never worked with a brute like this. As she speaks to it, it raises its head to look at her. "Easy, now, easy..."

It stands. Its belt is now at eye level. Nessa notices that it's not an "it" at all – it is definitely, decidedly a "HE".

"Ma _champ_." He steps forward, inches from Nessa now, and leans over again. He lowers his nose to the level of the bench and starts sniffing. It occurs to Nessa that he is sniffing her shorts. He starts to push his nose up against her leg, and she instinctively pulls away.

"Get away!" Nessa yells.

Seeming annoyed by her movement, he grabs her legs and pulls her back towards himself. He resumes sniffing. Increasingly disturbed, Nessa tries to wiggle out of her grip so she can fall on the other side of the bench and, hopefully, use her Pokemon to defend herself. This just irritates Machamp more, and his grip strengthens.

"Fucking _ow_!" she says. His sniffing becomes more aggressive, and he continues to pull her in. Nessa notices that she's started trembling.

"Ma-champ," he says firmly.

In one smooth motion, he releases her leg and then, with two of his other hands, takes powerful hold of both her thighs. His fingers rip her shorts. She gasps, and Machamp pulls her inward once again. His nose is pushing on her groin. The scent is his sole focus, and he seems to want as much of it as he can get. Nessa sees that his eyes are becoming even redder and that he's begun to sweat – from excitement, she assumes. And in that moment, she thinks back to what James told her: "Use it lightly. It's a super strong stimulant. It'll get them real excited, that's for sure."

Nessa realizes, to her horror, that James might have been referring to a different sort of excitement. And she yelps.

"Is anybody there!?" No one responds – the gym has been closed for over an hour at this point, so she knows she's silly for even trying – and Machamp is agitated by her cry for help. He places his hands on both sides of her shorts, grabs a handful of fabric, and rips it apart. A long opening stretches down the middle of her shorts. The polish had leaked through to her skin, and Machamp resumes his investigation. His nose brushes assertively against her groin.

"Get – away – get away from me! Go!" Nessa flicks her hands at it in a desperate attempt to convince him to leave. "Shoo!" As she gestures, his remaining two arms – _Oh, why do they have four?_ – seize her wrists. He pushes her down onto the bench, done with her protests, and he locks her arms to her side. His sniffing becomes more assertive than ever. His nose rubs insistently all over her groin, and each time it passes across her vagina, Nessa winces. Unfortunately, it looks like most of the polish seeped onto exactly that spot. He sniffs and sniffs, pushing his nose everywhere he can, focusing more and more on her vagina.

Suddenly, he stops and stands, releasing her arms. He still holds her legs, preventing her escape. Nessa is confused by the sudden change, and she watches him slowly grip his wrestling belt. He looks like he's _smiling_ , in the weird way that a Pokémon can smile, as though he's become sure of something. Like he's confirmed a suspicion. He holds the belt buckle...

"Use it lightly," James had said. Maybe he knew this might happen. _But why,_ Nessa thought, _would it make him act like this toward me? Wouldn't he realize I'm just a human?_ As Machamp undoes his belt buckle and lets his wrestling shorts fall to his ankles, Nessa comes to the awful realization that maybe, just maybe... _He thinks_ I'm _a Pokémon._

“Oh, fuck.”


	2. Four Arms

Machamp's penis is as long as her forearm and about as wide. (She wonders how he could have hidden it so well in those tiny shorts, but the question doesn’t seem too important to her right now.) She turns to the bottle. “Maybe if I spray the bottle on something else...” She considers her options, but she's practically immobilized with her legs being held firmly in place by a monster many, many times stronger than her.

But she doesn't have time to form a proper plan. To her terror, his penis grows and straightens, his eyes dilate, and he steps out of his shorts toward Nessa. He towers over her, his shadow totally covering her, and again takes hold of her wrists. She fights back, but she's no match for a Machamp. Especially not one this huge. She wiggles her body, trying to slip free, and accomplishes nothing. Machamp smiles even broader. His penis becomes even larger. It hangs over her abdomen, casting a dark shadow of its own, and veins bulge along its shaft. Machamp's sweat starts to drip onto her chest. She yells at it – “Get the fuck away! Get off of me! Fuck you!” – but, once again, she accomplishes nothing. He lifts her legs into the air and spreads them wide open, and she gasps. Saliva hangs like stalactites from the beast’s eager lips. It drips onto her cheeks and her mouth. She spits it out. "Get the fuck off of me! I'm the leader of—”

"Ma..."

His voice is low, but it is intimidating nonetheless. He leans until his face is less than a foot from hers, and he locks her arms behind her head. No way to that bottle now, she knows. Her groin hurts from how far apart he’s forced her to spread, but he isn’t really hurting her – at least not for now. Nessa hopes, perhaps desperately, that he will realize that she is human before it’s too late. She hopes that the polish wears off in time. But as he drags her into position and growls with anticipation, she knows her thoughts aren’t worth much.

He lines his penis up with her vagina. Its incredible length points at her like a sword. She is mortified. “I’m the leader… of this gym.” Her voice becomes small with fear. The room becomes silent. He draws back, and—

“…CHAMP!!!”

He drills into her.

She screams and her muscles all seem to tense up at once and the air is knocked out of her lungs. Her jaw falls wide open from shock, and her head cranes back. The impact rocks her backwards on the bench.

Machamp begins to thrust. Nessa's vagina, though it has seen a few rodeos, is stretched wider than ever. She cannot take such impossible girth, or at least she doesn't think she can. But the impossible is happening, and Machamp is thrusting faster each time. He salivates like a mad dog, splashing her face with spit, and he sweats like a Tepig. The oil, solution, polish – whatever it actually is – coats her entire groin, still smelling foul as ever. Each thrust is met with a _splat_ , _splat_ , _splat_. The bulging veins on his monstrous cock are so prominent that Nessa can feel them, actually feel them, with each push, and she is disgusted by the thought.

He chants in rhythm with his ritual. “Ma-champ, ma-champ, ma-champ.” Gradually but clearly, the tempo rises. And rises. And rises. And soon enough, he is moving at the speed of the Pokémon theme song, that universally loved song, rocking her back and forth across the bench. _To train them is my cause..._

Her voice returns to her, and she can only grunt and groan. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck.” She lifts her head and looks down at her vagina, which can barely hold him. She thinks she sees her abdomen rise with each thrust, as if his cock is pushing deeper than it should be able to, but she decides she must be seeing things. _That's impossible._ But it sure feels real. It feels like it's in her stomach. And Nessa tries to endure this fuck like her challengers endured against her in battle.

_Is this... what they feel like? Like they have no chance? Like it’s not even fair?_

But Machamp doesn't give her time to complete the thought. He releases her arms and taking hold of her waist instead. With her free hands, she tries to reach for her Poké Balls, but she is only able to touch one with the tip of her finger. It rolls and falls down onto the floor. It does not land on its button, and the Pokémon inside stays dormant. She can't reach it while it's behind her back on the floor. She gives up on that plan.

Machamp clutches her waist, his massive hands almost reaching the whole way around, and adjusts his angle. Then, he returns to fucking. He drives his cock into her again and again, pulling her in with every thrust so that she takes his entire length. Nessa, barely able to contain her groans, grabs his hands and tries to pry his fingers away, but she lacks the strength. Machamp clearly takes the touch as a sign of enthusiasm, because he increases the tempo once more. His drool stretches down to her face in a few long, white columns, but Nessa doesn't notice it over the feeling of his ravaging cock. She can’t hold her voice any longer. As he drills and drills and tests her limits, she can't stay silent anymore.

She throws her head back and moans. She can’t control it. Though this can't be called _pleasure_ , not really, it's unlike anything she's ever felt. Nessa feels like this monster is unlocking her, opening parts of her she never knew even existed, teaching her things about herself that she never knew. He is pushing her to her limits, physically and mentally, and she can't resist it for much longer. Her moans grow louder, and then louder again. She is wailing. His cock only seems to get larger, his thrusts only seem to get harder, and this feeling welling up inside of her – it keeps growing. It's like a voice coming from within, and it's getting harder to ignore. Nessa takes hold of his arms and braces. She moans like she never has before.

For just a moment, just a few seconds, she tugs on his arms, pulls herself in. She helps him. Helps herself to take that last inch. And he thrusts one more time. He pulls her vagina over his cock until it is totally enveloped, and with one final “Ma-CHAMP!”, he releases.

Nessa feels the warmth as it enters her. “Oh, my god...”

Cum fills Nessa. Machamp's cock throbs like it's been long neglected. Each pump fills her again and again, five or six pumps in all, and as he pulls out, he carelessly sprays it over her. Her abdomen is drenched in the sticky substance, and a few drops land on her cheek. A single strand of drool sits across Nessa’s lips, but she can’t say whether it’s even hers. He wipes his mouth. He stands straight up, wringing his penis of whatever cum was left onto her vagina, and he lets go of her. Red marks are left where his hands were.

Nessa breathes for the first time in – how long has it been? she searches for a clock and finds one on the opposite wall – five minutes. She watches the cum bubble from her vagina, and she lays her head against the bench. Her voice is small, reserved. “I can't believe... what just happened. I just...”

She sits in the silence for a while. Machamp seems to be catching his breath, too; he was on the more tiring end of this battle. But being a huge monster, he catches it quickly. The locker room is quiet, and Nessa’s legs fall back down from their elevated position. She kicks off her shoes and closes her eyes. _This is a dream. I’m not here. I’ve never trained a Machamp, but it was in my locker. Nothing makes sense. Clearly, this is in my head—_

A growl. Nessa opens her eyes, and the warmth fades. She remembers what’s happening, and she sits up to look at the beast.

He is fuming. The solution – it’s not wearing off at all. He kneels to pick up the bottle, as if he is finally realizing that the smell is coming from inside. But he is dissatisfied. He sniffs it once or twice, then tosses it at Nessa. The cap comes off altogether this time, and most of the remaining fluid is splashed onto her. The smell intensifies, and Machamp’s eyes get redder and redder. He is flexing all of his arms and puffing his chest and stomping his feet like he wants to scare her. He is succeeding.

_Wait. The Poké Ball!_

Nessa flips onto her stomach to reach the ball, which sits just below her on the tile floor. Its surface has been bruised by the fall, much to Nessa’s dismay, but she has bigger concerns right now. She grabs for it and she gets a hand to it, but her fingers slip and it drops to the floor again. Behind her, Machamp’s growls get louder. She tries again, this time picking it up, but the back of the ball faces her. She can’t reach her finger around to hit the button.

She stretches and tries to press it. Machamp is practically roaring now. She twists the ball around in her hand, and at the last second, as Machamp seizes her ankles and drags her back to him, ignoring her squirms, she presses the button.

It happens so fast. Machamp pulls her back against his body and rips her shorts straight off, discarding them onto the floor, leaving Nessa’s ass bare and vulnerable. He takes the back of her sports bra and holds her with it, using it like a handlebar. His weight is too great, and it snaps off and falls to the floor. So he grabs her by the hips instead. His penis rests on top of her back, once again erect, shockingly heavy, and ridiculously large. He drools all over her cheeks, ready to go again.

Out of the Poké Ball, a much smaller form appears – _great, just what I needed to fight this thing –_ and it slowly comes into focus. When it does, Nessa frowns. This can’t be right.


	3. The Champion

_I’ve never trained a Tangela, either._

It emerges from its Poké Ball and stands there, totally ignorant of what’s happening. His big white eyes just stare at her. “Do something, idiot Pokémon!” she yells. It winces, hurt by her insult. She pleads with it. “I didn’t mean it. Okay? Just – just help me out!”

It looks at the Machamp, then at her. It backs away.

“Oh, come the fuck _on!_ ”

And it just stares blankly. It knows as well as she does who would win that fight. And before she can plead with it again, Machamp slaps her on the asscheek and lines up, placing the tip of his cock at the entrance. Nessa’s eyes widen with surprise, because he’s lining up with a _different_ entrance this time. He releases her legs, controlling her well enough by the hips. With one hand, he takes her wrists and cuffs them behind her back, forcing her to lay her face on the bench. With the other, he takes hold of her neck. Tangela, watching this unfold, scutters under the bench to hide.

“You useless blue ball,” Nessa spits.

“Ma- _CHAMP._ ” He gradually inserts himself, a welcome change from the last time, but it’s still unpleasant. Nessa yelps when the head of his penis passes into her, her asshole already stretched more than it’s ever been, and she whimpers as his hulking shaft slides in. The first inch is easy, relatively speaking, and the second isn’t too bad, either. But the third, and the fourth, and the fifth, and the sixth, and Nessa starts to whimper. She bits her lower lip, trying to quiet herself, and she tries to close her legs to slow his advance. But no cigar; he just lets go of her hips, pushes her legs back apart, and grabs her again. His penis must be halfway in at this point. Six inches. Seven. _Eight. NINE._

“Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod—”

And he halts. Nessa’s asshole receives his entire dick. She peers down and sees that her stomach is bulging outward. _It really is this time._

He slaps her on the ass again and starts to fuck her. He slides out, then in again, and it’s no easier the second time. He slides out. Then in. And over and over. He’s patient at first, his cock shivering with glee as it glides into her, but his patience is limited. Nessa whimpers again, and her whimpers become bleats, and her bleats become moans. He is fucking her like an animal, and she doesn’t have any plans left. Nothing’s worked and there aren’t any other ways out. The polish that had spilled on her chest starts to drip onto the bench. Her stomach expands and retracts like a brown balloon. She watches it with pain, then curiosity, then disgust.

Tangela steps out from under the bench. Nessa manages to look at it as she is rocked back and forth. Its eyes, just like Machamp’s, are bloodshot, and it looks entirely out of its mind. It hops back and forth, watching Nessa get fucked from behind, and grows enraged. _Or is it excited?_ It occurs to Nessa, even in this panicked state of mind, that it must have found the spilled chemical on the floor and gotten a whiff of it. But she looks back down and groans, unable to focus on it for long. Machamp is breathing, or rather _panting_ , behind her, and there’s the sound again: _shlap, shlap, shlap._ Her ass is probably soaked in the chemical, and it’s clearly thrilling to Machamp. He is driving into her with the force of a truck, and Nessa is losing faith that she will even make it out of this alive. Do Machamps kill their mates like Beedrill do? Is he going to haul her off into the wild and fuck her for the rest of her life? Does the chemical even wear off? _He’s probably wondering why I’m so weak. I must seem like the smallest, frailest female Machamp ever. He might be bored. Or maybe he prefers it this way…_

As the idea crosses her mind of being carried into the forest by a sex-crazed Machamp and made his bride, a chilling idea, something enters Nessa’s mouth. Machamp must have jammed his finger in to keep her quiet. No – this is something wet and soft, not a finger. Something smaller. Nessa, whose moans are now a muffled _mrrph, mrphh, mrrrph,_ traces the blue object back to its source.

The Tangela.

The tentacle is smaller than Machamp’s cock, which Nessa has gotten to know quite well over the past fifteen or so minutes, but it is not _small._ A second one suddenly slithers between her lips and enters her mouth, and she can’t fit any more. Her tongue is pressed against the bottom of her mouth as the twin tentacles explore her and writhe around. With a monster cock ravaging her from behind and tentacles parting her lips, another pair of tentacles shoot from the Tangela and wrap firmly around her breasts, sliding around her black areolas and squeezing her hard nipples. The tentacles in her mouth begin to imitate the rhythm of Machamp, pulling out and pushing back in. Nessa’s sky blue eyes roll back. She groans. _Mrrph, mrrph, MRRPHH…_

The tentacles seem to grow in size, but Nessa doesn’t know if she’s imagining it. Tangela sends another tentacle out, and Machamp, as if he is accepting the help of his small friend, lets go of Nessa’s collar. The tentacle wraps around her neck three or four times in all, but Nessa isn’t keeping count. As the two tentacles mouthfuck her, her saliva drips from her lip. They are reaching far back, but not far enough to make her gag. Her nipples are yanked and twisted by the other tentacles. Machamp’s panting becomes rougher and faster. Without any warning, Machamp releases her hands, takes her under her arms, and lifts her on top of him. The tentacles follow.

With gravity on his side, his cock descends (or ascends, rather) even deeper into Nessa’s gaping, inviting asshole. She didn’t think she had the depth for it, but she seems to have just enough for him. Again Machamp is unlocking doors that she’s never noticed. Expanding her and helping her reach heights she never even imagined. Her body accepts him well enough, her asshole welcomes him easily enough, her pussy is wet enough, her will is broken enough, and the pleasure stirring within her like a spirit that’s long been trapped – and yes, she thinks, it is _pleasure_ now, but of a sort she’s never known before – comes closer to the surface with each muffled moan and each damp _shlap_ of his cock against her bare ass and each titillating squeeze of her nipples. When Tangela sends one final assault of tentacles deep into her waiting pussy, her pleasure boils over.

She reaches down and starts touching herself with the tentacles. She sees her body now, and it’s drenched in sweat and drool and polish and cum and whatever is dripping from Tangela’s many tentacles. She eagerly flicks and rubs herself, trying to push herself to the edge. Machamp, seeing her enthusiasm, lifts her onto his chest, suspending her over his groin, and, holding her legs wide apart, switches into a whole new gear. He drills his unnaturally huge cock into her with a ferocity Nessa has never seen from anyone, human and Pokémon alike. Tangela probes aggressively into her pussy at the same time, rubbing against her walls, and Nessa gasps. She fingers herself passionately.

More tentacles fly her direction. They mummify her, wrapping around her waist and her arms and her legs. They slither across her dark skin like an army of Ekans, imprisoning her in a wet, blue cage of pure bliss. They slide against her labia as she masturbates, assisting her in the effort. If she looked now, Nessa might be able to see what a Tangela really looks like underneath all those tendrils, but her mind is elsewhere.

With each beat: “Ma- _champ,_ ma- _champ,_ ma- _champ._ ” And with him: _Mrrph, mrrph, yethhh, yetthhh, morrrrphhh…_

The tentacles slide out of her mouth. She shrieks, her pleasure now unmuffled. Nessa masturbates more intensely, driving her fingers into her pussy along with the writhing tendrils. “Oh, please, please! _Yes yes yeeeesss!_ ”

She stands at a doorway. Behind it, there’s darkness. But she knows what she’ll find there.

Her nipples are stretched to the point where pain and pleasure are one and the same. Her asshole is filled to its limit. Her pussy is being explored like a cave. She drools and sticks out her tongue, panting in time with the beast, and she moans from pleasure. She’s always been in charge. She’s always had control. She’s always been the leader, always had dominance. But now…

Looking at the door, she knows what she has to do. She knows what’s behind it.

…now she is the one receiving. The one being defeated. The one being subjugated. It’s an uncomfortable sensation, and to her, a rare one, but there is grace in defeat. That’s what the professor told her so many years ago, when she chose her first Pokémon. _Oshawott, huh? I’ll never lose a battle with you._ But things have changed. Maybe it’s not so bad, losing control. Submitting to the will of another. Maybe she wasn’t made for stardom or victory or triumph, but for pleasing. For submission. Maybe what she wants isn’t what she thought at all…

She takes a deep breath and steps forward. She passes through.

Nessa wants to be fucked. She wants this cock inside of her, these tentacles encasing her. She wants her limits reached. This bubbling, swirling feeling in her heart is what she’s been after this whole time, and after years and years of relentlessly training, always a step ahead of her peers and always beating the odds, she will search for something else. Not a spot in the Elite Four. Not even the title of Pokémon champion. Not power or reputation, not fame or recognition, not authority or domination. She wants _this_ – to be skewered and made to cum. To be tamed and reduced to what she’s always been: a girl with simple desires.

“Yes, _yes, YES!!!”_

“Maaaaaaaa-CHAAAAAAMP!!!”

He blasts into her. Machamp cums violently and cathartically. His cock pumps into her asshole over and over and over, releasing his reservoir, and his grip comes loose. Tangela cums as well, shooting black, steaming goo all over her body, into her mouth, and across her face. The tentacles in her vagina fill her to the brim with liters of the inky stuff, and all the tentacles wrapping her loosen and drop to the bench, exhausted from pleasure.

Machamp is mid-orgasm. Nessa slides herself off his cock, a more difficult task than she expected, onto the bench. She sits on her knees, his gargantuan cock level with her face, and she reaches out and grabs hold of it. She strokes it quickly, careful to keep him at the edge, and takes it into her eager mouth. She grips the shaft with both hands, her fingers barely reaching around it, and squeezes. The veins on his cock are at their most pronounced, and Machamp groans with each stroke. He lowers his head to look at her. She makes eye contact and continues to suck. He groans again. She twists with her hands and pulls his cock across her lips, gagging as it reaches the back of her throat, and repeats. Like he has done to her twice already, she starts slowly and then rises to a quicker pace. Her jaw aches from the size of his cock, and her bright blue lips are stretched wide to accommodate his mass. As she presses her hands, which are so small in comparison, against his solid shaft, she can feel each protruding vein. Her saliva shines on his cock. She improves her technique, moving her hands in sync with her head and rubbing the underside of his cock like a genie’s lamp, and Machamp moans in response. She squeezes harder and sucks faster – her eyes still locked on his – and she brings him again to the brink. Seeing him seconds away from erupting, Nessa makes her finishing move. She holds him by the hips and, in one forceful motion, pulls his cock fully into her throat. Her need to please her mate overpowers her instincts, and she ignores her gag reflex. She holds it there for a few seconds. Machamp roars, and she backs his penis most of the way out, sensing the coming flood.

Nessa allows him to finish in her mouth. She gladly accepts it, giving him time to let it all out. She nearly chokes on it, but she swallows as it comes. Three or four mouthfuls in total. Three or four gulps. Cum drips from the corners of her lips, her blue lipstick smudged from sucking. After his final pump, she squeezes him from base to tip like a tube of toothpaste, releasing the very last of his warm, welcoming cum onto her tongue. Her eyes never drift from his, nor his from hers. She releases him and, holding her hand over her lips, swallows. Machamp is swaying on his feet from exhaustion. He sighs and hunches over, lost in bliss.

Nessa looks to her left. There, she sees the bottle of polish. A small amount of the liquid remains.

_Only one thing left to do._

She takes the bottle to her lips and drinks. It tastes absolutely awful, and she has to resist the urge to spit it back out. But she gets it down, and she tosses the empty bottle across the locker room. It’s served its purpose.

She stands from the bench, though her legs nearly buckle from half an hour of ruthless, primal fucking. (She checks the clock. It really has been that long.) Her asshole is still warm from friction, and her nipples are sore from their rough treatment. Looking back at the two of them, those crazed beasts, Nessa can hardly believe what she just went through. How could she ever return to a life of Pokémon training when all she sees are potential mates? How could she send her Pokémon to fight when she can only think about how to fuck them? How could she continue to be a gym leader when she’s not even the same person? What she wants sounds so wrong to her, when she considers it rationally. But the old Nessa was rational, and the old Nessa will be dead once the chemical has taken control. Maybe it already has. As she watches Machamp’s muscular chest rise and fall with each heaving breath, her eyes become bloodshot.

She steps over the twitching, catatonic Tangela and looks at the Poké Balls sitting in her locker. She knows now that this must be another trainer’s locker, left carelessly unlocked. She doesn’t know what might hide in those Poké Balls, but she is curious.

An idea occurs to her. She grabs each ball, pushes the button, and tosses it. Four balls in all. From them appear four new Pokémon: Salazzle, Tsareena, Sawk, and… Diglett? _Oh,_ she thinks. _I know_ exactly _what to do with that one._

Her vision wavers, and the room seems to grow in size. The chemical is working. She can feel her mind bend, like some parts are being shut off and others exaggerated. Colors get more vivid, lights get brighter. The pleasure she embraced is increasing. Her libido is begging for more, more, more, and when she looks at those Pokémon, her heart starts beating faster. She knows she is starting to drool, but she doesn’t really care. They turn to look at her. Their faces are blank.

She lays on the floor and spreads her pussy open with two fingers. Her torn clothes lay a few feet away. “Come here, boys and girls. Take what you want.”

They stare at her quizzically. Behind Nessa, Tangela is getting to its little red feet, and Machamp is still catching his breath. But she doesn’t have the patience to wait for them to recover. The chemical is spreading quickly in her bloodstream, warping her thoughts and amplifying her desires. Every inch of her body wants only to please. Soon, she will be totally corrupted and completely submissive. But she doesn’t mind. It’s what she wants. The old Nessa is nearly gone now, and in her place, a new Nessa is born. This Nessa accepts her smallness, and she wants only to obey her mate. She wants to behave. She wants to be _ruled._

“Don’t you smell it?” she says. “Don’t you want me?”

They do, and they do. The stench reaches their noses and their eyes turn red instantly, their mouths start to foam, and they begin to walk towards her. She lays back and spreads her legs. “Yes, _yes._ Use me…”

Vines from the Tsareena seize her by the arms and legs. The Sawk hoists her to his groin and reveals his impressive cock. The Salazzle slithers onto her and launches its tongue into her mouth. As for the Diglett, well…

_Yes,_ Nessa thinks. _Take control. Take it from me. All I want is to give you what you want._

She hopes that the chemical never wears off. She _prays_ that it never wears off. Maybe it won’t – even James didn’t know if it would. But she has a suspicion that even if it does, it won’t make a difference. She made her decision before she drank it, and it was designed to be used on Pokémon, not humans. So maybe… maybe it doesn’t affect her at all. Maybe this is just who she is. Maybe the old Nessa will stay dead forever.

She will find out soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> As I was browsing AO3 the other day, I noticed that there was shockingly little smut about Nessa. I thought this was strange, especially considering the huge amount of adult art that's already been made. (Seriously, folks. There's enough of Nessa alone to fill the Louvre.) I wanted to help fill that gap - with a *beastly* twist - by writing this story. The idea had been stuck in my head for a few days, and the only way to get it unstuck was to write it down and share it.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it ;)


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